


Each Small Candle

by JaeNunyah



Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23026060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaeNunyah/pseuds/JaeNunyah
Summary: Roger's perspective surrounding events of "Richard The First"
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	1. Leave Those Kids Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This presents as multiple stories on Rockfic, but decided to combine them all here as a single companion piece.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger swears Dave to secrecy...

He may bend a splendid string, but he's shit for conversation. Why are the pretty ones always so dumb? All right, time to get him back to what he's good at. Roger crushes out his cigarette and stands with a dusting-off gesture of his large hands.

"Break's over. Let's go do some work."

"Nuts to THAT." Dave defies "Nobody ELSE is working." He turns to head down the hall. "I'm gonna go see what Rick and Syd are up to."

"If you don't get YOUR nuts behind that Stratocaster, I will kick you in them." Roger threatens "Leave those kids alone."

"Oh, sod off, Roger! I'd rather hang out with them than you, anyway."

Roger looses a lecherous cackle before declaring ominously "I don't think you wanna see what's...hanging out...in Rick's room right now."

"That's not funny, Rog." Dave glowers "In fact, it's a pretty goddamn mean thing to say."

"I'm sure it isn't funny to THEM at all." Roger allows "Although the situation is not without its humorous aspects to ME, my saying so to YOU now is far less 'mean'...for ALL concerned...than letting your clodhopping cluelessness walk in on it would be."

Dave uncomfortably suspects Roger's not joking. "You really think they're...?"

"WhatEVER they are, it's not our business, and it's going to STAY that way until they're ready to tell us." Roger looms near and glares down at Dave. "I need them WORKING, and if...this thing...they have on keeps them happy and focused, Thou Shalt Not Meddle. Until THEY decide to say something, WE say NOTHING." He cracks his knuckles to punctuate the point. "Understand?"

Dave seethes in awareness that Roger's perfectly right. Rick's prone to tears and crises of confidence already, and it's an absolute crapshoot what Syd might do these days. Much as he hates to let Roger's obvious intimidation tactics work, he can't help but admit any pushback on this subject makes HIM the bad guy.

"Fine." Dave huffs "I've got work to do." He points a broad finger at Roger's narrow chest. "YOU leave ME alone. I don't feel like hearing your backseat driving."

Suits Roger. With all the pups playin' elsewhere, he can groove on some mindless telly and have a think in peace.

"That'll do, Pig."


	2. Got A Grand Piano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger figures it out...and approves.

The whole house is dark and still, but dawn is breaking. Slight light seeping through cracks and crannies is more than enough to accommodate Roger's excellent night vision as he strides into shadowy rehearsal room. Casting keen gaze over arrayed instruments, noting nothing amiss except the irritatingly askew piano bench, his inward eye focuses upon the flickering flame of elusive oddity.

SOMETHING had happened in this room today...something important...Electric atmosphere's no longer charged, but when he'd arrived home there'd been a distinctly unfamiliar undercurrent. He deduces Rick's guilty sulk was likely a result of being caught messing about at HIS piano, but Pig had looked at him as brazenly as an insolent canary-stuffed cat.

What the hell had they been up to? He touches the tuning pegs of his Fender Precision one by one, assuring himself nobody's laid a rude hand on THAT...as if anybody in THIS house would know his way around four fat strings...No, whatever it was had something to do with his beloved baby grand.

Roger approaches the piano at issue and sits down upon the bench, vexed that Rick always wants to play with HIS tools when he's out, although the pup has a dozen keyboards and two fucking pianos of his OWN. He'll let it slide as long as sweet machine remains in perfect working order...too bad bandmates so rarely can be.

Large hands spanning several octaves, he ripples a few riffs (considerately pianissimo...pretty boys need their beauty sleep) then stops, head cocked, listening with more than just his ears.

Not out of tune...but there's another tune tickling the edges of his perception...some sappy shit. Fingers of one hand softly plink out four notes as the words "...lovers in love..." leave his lips, which quirk into smirk at sudden awareness.

So...finally requited, is it? Good.

He hadn't cared for the smug smile on Pig's face one bit, but what he'd mistaken might bode ill for him is instead something beneficial for all. Pig may have earned his name back (the epithet's getting old, anyway) for undertaking to tune the pianist in addition to bending the string.

"Cheers, Dave." Roger addresses the empty room with an arch grin. "Takin' one for the team."


	3. Sniffing About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big Dog notes how pups have played...

"Rick?" Roger calls without looking up as bandmate passes behind him.

"Wrong." wafts Dave's dismissive denial.

HOW had he possibly made such an inexcusably unobservant error? Could it be they're starting to walk alike? No, Pig still shuffles and Sheep still slinks.

Keen gaze follows Dave's departure, noting uncharacteristically clean tresses trailing faint honeysuckle hint. Aha, Rick's shampoo. Roger had uncharitably (albeit accurately) considered Rick a coward, but it must have taken some degree of daring to fall upon THAT greasy grenade.

Now, Roger prays pianist might cultivate an inclination to launder Dave's pants as well as getting into them.


	4. Indoor Sports

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave declines to play with Roger and friends...

"Hey, Dave, in or out?"

[Likely both in rapid, repeated roundelay shortly after rousing Rick.]

Swig from longnecked lager fails to wash away taste of that thought from Roger's mind.

Out of this party, into quiet house. "Your games are like the mafia. Once you get in you CAN'T get out, and you wind up doing shit you're not proud of." Laughter of guests greets Dave's assessment as he regards Roger's entourage. "You've been warned. I'm going to bed."

[Ah, but whose?]

"If you see Rick, tell him Happy Birthday."

[Many sappy returns.]


	5. Vertibracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graciously indulging impertinence...

[WHAT did he just say?]

Closest thing to a doubletake Roger permits himself is a subtle double blink. He knows what they think of him, and what's said behind his back

[tyrant/scarecrow/maniac/pervert/big meanie]

but open defiance from RICK strikes as strange. Perhaps this exotic example of vertibracy 

[If that isn't a word, it should be.]

ought not to be outright discouraged, although certainly not obeyed. Roger supposes he can let a single "shut up" slide. It IS Rick's birthday, after all, and it would never do to set him crying onto his cake.


	6. Something Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger calls Dave (out) over truancy...

"Where have you been?" Roger barks into telephone.

"Here, obviously." Dave's relaxed reply gratingly grinds Roger's gears. "It's unlike you to ask stupid questions."

[Or rhetorical ones, so "How would you like a knuckle sandwich?" is out.]

"Don't bother coming NOW."

Dave's "Too late." is declarative, not interrogatory.

[Ugh, he actually believes that's subtle?]

"What the fuck have you been smoking?"

[probably pole]

"Something strong."

[dubiously debatable]

Roger practically sees as well as hears them both mocking him, and generously disconnects before saying anything to spoil their sport, which now officially interferes with work.


	7. Shroud of Tourin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick's bandanna has been abandoned backstage

Scanning for anything forgotten, colorful cloth catches sharp eye. Must have fallen from Dave's pocket, yet had begun the night in Rick's. Roger wouldn't TOUCH the thing on a bet, although he cannot help but wonder what price it might fetch at auction if wealthy, perverted fans had any clue as to how it had been used.

Fervently wishing HE didn't, Roger leans over and deliberately spits onto the crumpled, stained swatch of paisley fabric.

[Lippy lovebirds are FAR more annoying than loud lout in Montreal had been.]

There. Value from Floyd fluid has just increased.


	8. Uninvited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone together...

Tears are like puke...Once impetus becomes inevitability, best to get it out, but Rick might not know holding back will make him even sicker.

[Syd's why he must, but I'M why he can't.]

Trapped together until Dave returns to sound the all-clear, Roger has never felt lonelier than with both bandmates completely ignoring him. Favorite Fender is here, but four fat strings aren't expressive enough. There's a second piano, but he wants to TALK, not harmonize.

[They won't listen. How to show it hurts me, too?]

He'll have to cry first.


	9. Puppy Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange noises in the night...

"NO!"

Horrified scream reverberating through Rick's door halts Roger outside.

[Sounded unfriendly, kids...too raw for roleplay. If I have to get involved, it comes with a smack.]

Divided attention discerns Dave's snores behind different door, vaulting vigilance into high alert.

[Whoever he's entertaining now is NOT playing nicely. Rick might rather endure harbinger of howl than face rescue by ME, but one more outcry and I'm going in.]

No sound of struggle manifests, only obviously solitary shift and squeak before barely audible "I love you."

[Yipping in his sleep...weird puppy dreams. Wonder what about?]


	10. Singalong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wicked thoughts during dirty songs...

[Poor perturbed piglet. Sulky snout snuffling away, is it? Never heard a lovelier "One-Ball Reilly"...weave bagpipe effect on synth into background...could be brilliant...shan't stoop to say so.

Think I WANT to be here? Would much rather have stayed, but I'm in no fit state to see Him...might set a bad example...tempt an unseemly display.

What's this? My, what sexy sleepwear. Is he trying to seduce Dave back to bed? No, he's coming out to play! 

Fuck me, that song's new. Paper, PAPER? Ah, there. Need to write this down.]


	11. Somebody Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Powers of observation behind unexpected eyes...

[What's THIS unfamiliar expression? Wellwell, flickering flame...somebody home.

Aww, he finds honest insight deeply disturbing. Silly, sheltered soul probably believes it's telepathy...as if I'd ever suffer scrabbling manky mouse feet along baseboards of my mental mansion.

Understands, does he? Good. Now I needn't speak. Lovely to finally communicate without employing a bullhorn or consulting an English-to-Idiot dictionary.

They'll cuddle up tonight and pillowtalk about what a monster I am. Sometimes I envy them, having such sweetly simple minds...and each other. Could Rick's fleeting flash of observation have revealed that?]


	12. Stray Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Any fool knows a dog needs a home..."

"...getting a gun, are you?"

[Nick cracking jokes. Good thing none of them know I actually HAVE one.]

Roger discerns death knell tolling loud and clear as he dons favorite coat before sliding little black books into big black bag. Fortunately, there's not much here about which he cares. Locked in his nightstand are pistol and passport. Locked in his mind are music and memories. Locked in his heart are recriminations and regrets. Nothing more will he take away.

[Single notebook remains beside piano...MY piano?...Rick can keep it. Wish him luck, but saying so would sound sarcastic.]


End file.
